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Posts Tagged ‘men in drag’

There were lots of great costumes at the high heels marathon (mascarita ponte tacon) on the penultimate night of carnaval in Puerto de la Cruz. But for me the best of them was this guy – at least I think it’s a guy – Shiva. I just love the beer can in one of his hands.

Many Hands Make...Holding the Beer Easy

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Arrived at Casa Blanca apartments 8pm, Jack dressed in blonde wig, little black dress over two balloons stuffed into a bra, torn fishnets and trainers; he looks like a demented Scandinavian trollop, code name for the evening – Inga.
In the apartment, the girls are applying make-up to the lads who are losing their bottle about appearing in public in their outfits. Sadly, they’ve opted to tone down by pairing their skirts with T-shirts, socks and trainers, thus entering a no-man’s land of indeterminate gender – very dodgy! After several swift shots of wine, Martin disappears and re-emerges looking like a cross between Fanny Craddock and a Reader’s wife! The fake boobs are very good.
Difficult to describe the looks our motley group attract from Puerto’s unsuspecting visitors as we make our way down to Plaza del Charco for the Burial of the Sardine but confidence grows in direct proportion to strength in numbers as more and more ‘widows’ appear in the Plaza.

First stop – a round of beers to steady the nerves, then take our places at top of Plaza to await the funeral cortège. ‘Inga’ tries (and fails) to keep his place free from the usual onslaught of elderly Canarian women who sit comfortably at home until 20 minutes before the parade is due, before heading into the street and elbowing their way into the space occupied by those who’ve been standing there for hours. For his trouble, ‘Inga’ is rebuked by being called “a cheap blonde” which really hurt his feelings. The giant sardine finally comes into sight, its big red eye fixing us with a stare as it glides past and we slip into the ranks of wailing, fainting widows behind it and follow it down to the harbour to watch the cremation and the fireworks.
Theme on the dance floor is most decidedly ‘drag’ and the men discover just how ‘nippy’ an exposed cleavage and fishnets can be at this time of year. By 4.30am the chilly night air quickens our separation from the 6ft 7in, be-jewelled and veiled ‘widows’ that surround us and sends us homeward, two Dick Emerys and an inebriated mother in tow.

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Just arrived back from Plaza del Charco after a brilliant night and still buzzin’. Calle Perdomo, Calle Mequinez and Calle Marina merged into a single dance floor; speakers strung from kiosks at the harbour end of Calle Mequinez blasted out dance music to the thronging masses below. Drag queens danced with DC Comics’ heroes, pirates, Smurfs and nuns. Two people were pole dancing on the flat roof of one of the bars and the volume was pumping up and up as the spirit of ecstasy spread through the thousands.
What a start to the week!!!

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